Telephone
by Dark-Wolfbane
Summary: Mr. President? There's an urgent phone call for you... from outer space.


**Telephone**

"Mr. President, sir? There's an urgent phone call for you, sir."

The President sighed, placing a hand to his forehead, already feeling a migraine coming on, "If it's Mr. Williams could you tell him to call back later, Donna?"

"Actually, sir, it's not Mr. Williams." Donna's high pitched voice sounded through the speaker phone. "He says his name is Orion Pax, but that name is not in our records of licensed personnel. Should I send the call to one of our agents?"

At the sound of the name the President's head shot up from his hand, "Donna, where is the call coming from?"

"Not anywhere in the US, heck not anywhere on earth! The head of Communications said the call is being issued through some sort of governmental phone line created nearly 45 years ago… The call is coming from outer space, sir."

For a moment all was silent as the President stared at the phone on his desk. _Strange, I've been the President for six years now and I never knew that line existed. _

"Alright, Donna," he said, leaning back in his chair, "you may put our Mr. Pax though. But if you would please make a notice, I don't want to be disturbed for any reason during this call, understood?"

"Yes, Mr. President. I'll put him through on line one." His secretary's voice disappeared with a soft click and was replaced with a yellow flashing light on his telephone base.

_It's been nearly 50 years, what the hell do they want with us now?_

The President sat and watched that yellow light, his blue eyes void of emotion as he mulled over his thoughts. Finally, he reached over, tapped the button, and said in an equally emotionless voice, "Hello… _Optimus Prime_. You have successfully reached the _President_ of the United States of America."

A deep, rumbling voice answered from the speaker phone, hesitant at first but then picking up in determination, "Yes, Sp- er… Mr. President… it is good to hear from you."

"Indeed," answered the President, "Please, Prime, if we could skip the sentimentals? Both of us are very busy men and I would appreciate it if you could get straight to the point of the matter."

"…Of course. I am sure that you of all people would remember the Decepticons?"

"Hm. Who could ever forget dear Megatron and his band of lackeys?" The President responded sarcastically, "Last I heard you had them under lock and key back on Cybertron."

"Yes. Approximately 45 Earth years ago, after the end of the war and the return to our home planet, my Autobots were able to keep the Decepticons under control. However, that is no longer the case…"

"You mean to say that our friend Megatron is back to his old ways?"

Something akin to an exhausted sigh could be heard from across the phone line, "Yes, you could say that. He calls himself Galvatron now, yet he is no less of a threat than before. The War I had hoped was finally over has returned, and with it insurmountable death and destruction."

"Well now, how did _Galvatron_ become such a threat? Forty-five years ago you, Prime, swore that with the Decepticons contained the people of Earth would have nothing to worry about. Yet here you are, asking for the Earth's assistance. Begging for our resources, our energy, and our warriors… That _is_ what you are doing, isn't it, Prime?"

"Mr. President, you must understand. This is not something I _want_ to do. My soldiers and I have done everything we could think of to try and stop Galvatron, yet nothing has worked. You, sir, are my last resort." The weariness in the Prime's voice practically bled through the phone line, "I was hoping that you would remember our past friendship and assist us in some way."

The President took his sweet time answering, rising from his chair to pace in front of his desk, "Do I need to remind you, Prime, about what occurred here, on my planet, in my country, nearly 50 years ago? Should I refresh your memory about how thousands of _my_ people died because of _your_ people? We never asked for your war. And yet you brought it to us anyways."

"With all do respect, Mr. President, our ship crash landed! We never intended to-"

"You could have left!" The President halted his pacing, slamming his hands on the desk near the phone, "It would have been easy. You had the technology, the power, the energy! Did you know that during the time you were here on Earth the US alone lost almost a fourth of its energy resources to your petty squabbles with the Decepticons?"

The faint hissing of hydraulics could be heard on the other end, "I'm sorry for your country's losses, Mr. President, I truly am. But please try to understand that the Autobots only intended the best for humankind."

The President tossed back his head with a harsh laugh, "Intended the best? Prime, you may have had the best intentions, but the scars still remain… as do the graves of the _humans_ who died by your kinds hands!"

"Mr. President, would you just hear me out! My people are being slaughtered by the Decepticons!"

"And more of _mine_ will die if I send aid!"

"Mr. President, please-"

"I'm sorry, Prime," the President stated calmly. The emotionless void returning to his eyes, all the hate and anger shoved cleanly aside, "but I'm afraid there is nothing I can do for you. The stakes are just too high. You're on your own."

"Mr. Pres- Spike! Spike, we-!"

"Good-bye, Optimus. It was a pleasure speaking to you again, but don't ever call back."

_Click_.

The silence that followed the disconnection was ear splitting, yet President Witwicky's clam demeanor did not deviate.

Slowly he sank back into his chair, his head held high. Again he reached to his desk phone, hitting a button to his secretary.

"Donna, could you do me a favor? Call the head of Communications and have him destroy that phone line from outer space. I won't be talking to Mr. Pax again any time soon…"


End file.
